A Debt to be Repaid
by kaleidoscope-dream
Summary: AU. It all started with a little boy who reminded Madara of a woman he used to know. Then that boy grew up, his freedom taken. Madara won't take that lightly, because he owed that woman he used to know. And while Yoshiwara wasn't easy to escape from, Madara would stop at nothing to make it happen.
1. Chapter 1

**A Debt to be Repaid**

******Notes:** Because the nature of the story deals with prostitution, there will be blatant hints of under-age sex. Both male/male and male/female. If that  
makes anyone uncomfortable, I suggest not reading this. Otherwise, continue onwards!

* * *

An endless life is something that grows more tedious for each day lived. As a powerful youkai, Madara knows this better than any of his acquaintances, for he has lived far longer than most of them. So he finds ways to indulge. Humans are the easiest course to take - terrorizing them, corrupting them, getting to know them - and it leads to an end he would not have foresaw.

It starts with a little boy, who reminds him of a woman he used to know. Clumsy and lost, the boy sits beside a food cart and his trembling is obvious to even the blindest of fools. Madara crouches down and flicks him on the forehead. It stops the trembling, but now the boy is looking at him and his confusion is palpable.

"Who are you?"

Well, to the eyes of a human at least, he is an ordinary man - but a cursed one. A façade he wears when he mingles among humans. It gains their pity and their fascination. With long white hair and eyes redder than blood, he is a sight to behold, and a magnificent sight at that. "I have no name," he answers cryptically, "but you, child?"

"Natsume," the boy mumbles and brings his knees a little closer to his body, small and insecure, "but my mother called me 'Takashi' when she was still alive."

Humans live such short lives, Madara reminds himself, this is nothing new. These foolish humans often leave loved ones behind. This boy is simply one of the unfortunate few left behind. An example of why Madara hates attachments. They never amount to anything and end up hurting someone even more. "Shall I take you home?" he offers on a whim, because he knows for sure now - this boy is related to the woman from his past. He isn't sure how, but the resemblance is there.

Not only is the name similar, but the bone structure, the eyes that aren't the same color but hold that same emptiness, and the hair that brushes against his slim shoulders - it all reminds him of _her_. That unkind girl who could see him without the need for human form. He wonders if Takashi is the same, exactly the same, or if he is as different to her as the sun is to the moon.

Nervously, the boy says, "I'll be fine on my own." There is no room for Madara to insist, and he doesn't want to, anyway, because humans are ludicrous beings that don't understand each other, let alone someone like him. He isn't sure why he stopped to talk to this boy, but he regrets it now.

Helping a human? A fool's errand, and Madara is never a fool.

* * *

Years pass and Madara notices nothing of it. The seasons change, the humans change, but he stays the same. Eternal. It is one day among many, many more when he stumbles upon what the humans call a red-light district. He knows what they are because he has seen them before, but the smell tends to deter him from further exploration: the smell of human desire.

Today is different, though. There is a familiar smell among the mesh of sweat, sex, and materialistic things. And he wants to know why.

"Have you heard?" a woman whispers to her friend from behind her fan.

"I heard! Natori-san has impeccable taste, as always." Madara isn't trying to eavesdrop, not really; they're just not subtle.

"Truly, the most beautiful courtesan suits him, but he visits that place for more than her."

"What?" her friend asks, surprise on her painted face. "Insatiable, is he?"

Madara walks a little faster, hoping to get away from them and their gossip, but everywhere he turns there are people talking, laughing, and faking what they feel. It's all so very fake. His nose leads him to a restaurant down the street and he stops for food. Not because he is particularly hungry, but rather, it's another indulgence of his - and the scent from earlier is close by, so close it makes his mouth water.

"Excuse me," someone takes a seat next to him, but Madara has his food and ignores the person. That is, until the smell hits him, and his attention wavers.

Raising his head from the udon, he sniffs and it's faint, but there it is - the smell he's searching for. The smell of something pure and untainted in this filthy district. His chopsticks fall to the counter as he reaches out and grabs the man by the front of his yukata. "Where were you before you came here?"

"T-The brothel beside this restaurant," the man explains. He's too frightened to do much else.

Madara lets out a snort, pays for his untouched meal, and heads to this 'brothel'.

"Does a Natsume work here?" Madara questions after a hostess greets him. She's pretty, with her dark brown hair that twists around an ornamental flower and a touch of color around her eyes, but she isn't what he's after.

Her mouth takes the shape of an 'o' and smiles, effortlessly polite. "I'm sorry. He's with a customer."

"I'll wait." And Madara doesn't lie. He takes a seat right in front of the door and refuses other customers entrance until he has what he wants. _That fool of a child,_ he thinks, _what is he doing in a place like this?_

He doesn't have to wait long before someone - that isn't Natsume - appears. A man with a strange paper seal over his right eye bids him welcome, but the smile on his face is a lie clearer than any of the fake, painted faces he's seen up until now. "Perhaps we can offer you something else, dear customer. Natsume will be unavailable for hours, but we still need use of our door - which you are currently blocking."

There are angry agreements from outside, telling him to get out of the way, but Madara doesn't budge. "Make him available, then. The brat's coming with me." As soon as he says it, he realizes what he's doing and gruffly amends, "I'm talking some sense into that boy. You can have him back if he still wants to come here." He isn't helping the kid, he tries to convince himself, he just wants to do a favor for a woman that's always in his memories. Simple, nothing to it. Then he'll be on his way and the kid will lead a proper life.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken about something," the man begins, chuckling slightly, "Natsume is a popular commodity. Why would I let him go? And with you? Surely, you jest. Now, if you can pay for his debt, that's another story."

_Debt?_ What had the boy done to be in debt? "Fine, how much?"

"Oh my, you are serious, aren't you? Well, too much for you to pay, from the looks of it." The man looks him up and down and Madara does his best not to hiss. In human form, he has never seen the need to be what humans call 'rich'. "But I'll provide you with one of our … more affordable boys. How does that sound?"

Madara declines. "I have no interest if it isn't Natsume." Because at least Natsume would taste delicious if he ate him. When he does eat, Madara is a gourmet.

"Then I advise you to return tomorrow," dismisses the man that Madara is starting to detest, and he's sure of it when the man adds, "if you can afford him."

Madara takes no challenge lying down. He rises, meets it head on, and crashes through anything that stops him from moving forward. "All right. Tell him to be ready. I'm coming back tomorrow."

* * *

Natsume Takashi isn't sure he's hearing this correctly. "Matoba-san, what do you mean someone wants to buy me?" The girl sitting in front of him, for he has to ready her for the night ahead, lets out a faint giggle and tells him it's true. "Taki, why would someone want to by me? I'm -"

"Beautiful," finishes Matoba, and he's close enough to make Takashi feel uncomfortable. "How did you become so popular, Takashi-kun? First Natori, now some stranger ..." Takashi doesn't know the answer either and says as much.

He shivers when Matoba runs a hand through his hair, which is cropped short, to just beneath his ears, to stave off confusion. He isn't one of the girls for sale, and Matoba makes sure everyone knows it. Matoba has rules here, and those rules have to be followed.

Darkening Taki's lips with color, he focuses on her and not how Matoba toys with a strand of his hair, rolling it between his fingers. Not how Matoba leans down, on his knees, and pulls Takashi's simple blue robe off his shoulders. Not how Matoba places his lips to skin, kissing the mark on Takashi's back that is all his.

"I-I should go," Taki says softly, knowing better than to linger.

Takashi wishes she would stay, but he doesn't want to see her punished either. They both know what it means to live in Yoshiwara, and they both know the weight of the shackles that bind them here. "Good luck," he wishes her instead, because it is enough to live to see another day.

When she is gone, Matoba drops the act - or at least, that's what Takashi calls it. The possessiveness always disappears once they're alone. "The man I mentioned," Matoba starts calmly, readjusting Takashi's robe to pool around his waist, "do you know someone with white hair, red eyes, and the stink of an ayakashi, by any chance?"

There is a memory from long ago that tells him yes, but he doesn't want to tell the truth. Not to this man. "No. I don't know anyone like that." It's silly, too. To think an ayakashi wants to help him. They are the reason he has no parents. They are the reason he is indebted to this man. They are the reason he lives each day wondering if he wouldn't be better off dead. There isn't a single ayakashi that thinks of anything but itself. _The man from my memories is human,_ he maintains, _an ayakashi wouldn't try to help me._

"Really," says Matoba, pressing against Takashi's back to catch a glimpse of the concealed expression, "I somehow doubt that." His lips are on the shell of Takashi's ear and the boy shivers again.

Takashi hates how much he has to endure, but he hates the fear pooling in his stomach more. "Is he that much of threat?"

"I wonder," Matoba answers, and it's hardly an answer at all.

* * *

The next day, as promised, Madara returns. He may or may not have stolen the large coin bags he throws to the floor, but that's his business and no one else's. As long as it buys Natsume, it's fine. He can disappear after that, and people will forget. They always do. "Is this enough?" he directs the question to the man from yesterday, who is here again and no longer smiling.

The man bends down, picks up one of the bags, and that's when the show starts. A dramatic sigh spills from the man's lips and he turns the bag over, emptying it of coins. "You think I don't know this is stolen? To shame. A pickpocket wants to steal from me as well? I won't let you buy Natsume Takashi with money like this. Get out."

Madara has the sudden urge to tug _real hard_ on the long hair the man possesses, but he resists. That won't get him any closer to Natsume. "Then maybe this filthy money can buy me something else," Madara growls. "One night. Give me that."

"No," the man shrugs, as if it's out of his hands, "I don't want you anywhere near him."

"Now, now, that's not very nice," someone else enters the conversation - and Madara curses at his lack of foresight. He should have blocked the entrance again. "What's wrong with one night?" Madara tenses up at the companionable arm that wraps around his shoulders. "And if you're offering, then I want -"

"You can keep wanting," the man says with a smile, "now kindly get lost."

"So cruel!" the new arrival exclaims, and Madara debates whether or not he should shove the man away. "Do you really want to lose your best customer?"

"There are others." And the man with the long, dark hair is too confident for it to be a bluff.

"I understand." Madara's positive this man doesn't understand at all. He's much too determined. "Then I'll take my patronage elsewhere."

"Unless," the sly man interrupts before his once-patron can walk out, "you want something that isn't taken. I might allow you that."

"Tempting, tempting," the other man feigns interest, "but you're still hiding the best for yourself, aren't you?"

"Your eyes might be sharp, but you know nothing." The brothel owner ends it there and speaks to both of them this time, "Natsume isn't for a sale. Never has, never will be. _Goodbye_, gentlemen."

Madara accepts the other man's offer for a drink when they're promptly thrown out on the streets.

* * *

"Name's Natori," the man introduces himself finally, but only after the fifth cup of sake, so Madara isn't sure if it's intentional or not. There have been weaker humans, plenty of them. "Natori Shuuichi. And who might you be?"

"I don't have a name," Madara answers in the same fashion he had to Natsume, years ago.

"Why were you there, if you don't mind my asking?" He pours Madara another round of sake and then one for himself. "Besides the obvious." Madara doesn't like the leer he's getting from this theatrical man.

"Natsume's freedom. The fool needs someone to look after him." That's the short and the long of it, and Madara's sticking to that story. This has nothing to do with sentiment. Aside from repayment, because he does owe Natsume Reiko, much to his chagrin. Saving the boy would make him debt-free, too.

When Natori speaks again, his words are slurred, "I feel the same way."

_Pitiful,_ Madara thinks, _I'm on par with a drunkard._ "And you? How do you know Natsume?"

"Oh, what a story!" Natori says in that over-the-top way of his. Madara still likes him a hell of a lot more than the other one. "You won't believe me, but he saved my life."

"How?" Madara prompts when it looks like Natori has zoned out and forgotten to continue. He waves a hand in front of the man's glossy eyes, calling, "Oi, finish your story, moron."

That does the trick, because Natori is gushing again, singing Natsume praises, "He's sweet, you know. And very polite. I didn't think much of him until that day … it was about this time last summer, actually." He trails off into thought again and Madara readies the sake bottle, prepared to smack the idiot upside the head with it - if necessary, which he hopes it will be. To Madara's disappointment, Natori picks the story up where he left it, "The day he saved me was very hot, so I took my favorite courtesan to the pond. There's a pond behind the brothel house, did you know that?"

Silently, Madara urges him to speed things up. When that doesn't work, he pours a drink. And then another. It's on Natori, anyway.

"We were talking when suddenly it got quiet - a dead silence. She didn't look afraid, though. No, she was smiling when she wrapped her hands around my throat. I was suffocating and couldn't scream. She was stronger than I had thought, so much stronger that I knew she couldn't be human. I managed to pry her hands from my throat, but then she grabbed one of my ankles and started dragging me toward the pond. As soon as she touched the water, what I thought was her true strength doubled. I was frightened, terrified, I didn't know what was going on."

Madara hides a yawn. Humans, always so melodramatic. But what had a mermaid targeted this man for?

"I thought for sure it was the end. I was going to die. Then Natsume was there, shouting, and it caused her grip to loosen. It was enough for me to escape. I had bruises for weeks, though! I don't know what he said to her, but after that, I never saw her again. The strange thing was … Natsume kept blaming himself, saying it was his fault, but I don't see how that's possible. Do you?"

If Madara was less of an ayakashi, he might have agreed. However, at his level, Madara understands a few things that other youkai never would. One, humans are fools and should be treated as such. Two, humans can be interesting and fascinating, but it leads to unhappy ends and Madara rarely bothers with befriending one. And three, an ayakashi falling in love with a human means someone is going to get hurt, because ayakashi love without restraint. He's seen it happen again and again - and that's why he refuses to indulge in that one thing. The thing humans call 'love' is irrational, and he doesn't believe in it. Something so fleeting.

"Does Natsume like you?" Madara swirls his sake, staring into the watery depths. "Because maybe the mermaid was jealous. You could have been in her way."

The drunkard looks a lot less drunk all of a sudden. "How much do you know about ayakashi?"

"Enough to know that you shouldn't get involved with a boy like Natsume if he attracts such things." Swallowing his last drink, Madara stands and bows, a touch mockingly. "Thanks for the company."

When Natori gets the bill, he doesn't feel nearly as thankful.

* * *

Madara's newest idea to meet Natsume consists of a tree and an open window. Sneaking in, the next logic step. _If what you want won't come to you, you go to it._ Or so Madara hears philosophers preach. It's a little different when hanging from a three story building, of course, but Madara knows what he's doing. Probably.

His expectations about this open-windowed room belonging to Natsume - that would have been perfect - plummet when all he sees is half-dressed women. He doesn't stop for directions, though - that wouldn't have been perfect, not at all. He has to keep moving and find Natsume before the owner of this place finds him. It's a bit ironic, he thinks, that a game of cat and mouse had him cast as the mouse this time around.

He makes it to the staircase, and then the ruckus begins.

"There's a cat!"

"Catch it!"

"Ah, it's headed towards Seiji-sama's room!"

The door to this Seiji-sama's room isn't open, so he has to jump and twist it with his paws, but it's a place to hide for now. They seem hesitant to enter, at any rate. He pushes the door back shut once he's inside and collapses onto his well-fed belly. Crisis aborted, he thinks.

"A cat?" a sleepy voice asks, and it's soothing and warm, the way this human speaks. It sends a strange jolt through Madara, who isn't used to things like that. "Come here," the human calls, and Madara unthinkingly obeys - and then stops cold in his tracks. Realization hits him. The smell, clouded with sweat, sex, and material things, is the familiar one he has been chasing. "Come here," repeats Natsume, and from beneath the covers, he can see the boy smile - so innocent and pure. But the empty eyes are the same. There's hurt, so much hurt, lurking in those grayish eyes.

Hopping up onto the bed, he curls up beside the boy and fakes a meow. Natsume chuckles, the sound dry and sticky in his throat, which makes Madara move a little closer, placing a paw onto the boy's covered chest. It's possible the boy is sick, but he doesn't want to think about that. This is his last chance to repay a debt. He's not going to fail.

The boy surprises him by scratching behind Madara's sensitive cat ears and he can't help but purr, the natural reaction to such treatment. There's another faint smile from Natsume, so he bumps his head against the boy's hand, wanting more if it keeps that smile around for a little longer.

"I don't know how you got in," the boy says quietly, "but you can't stay long. If Matoba-san catches you …" Natsume is frowning, and Madara decides he doesn't like that expression.

In his cat form, Madara is pushed away and Natsume stands, fully nude, beginning his search for some clothes. Something in Madara burns, fierce and dark, at the mark on Natsume's back. Two intertwined snakes, a permanent brand that won't come off as easily as it can be placed. He hisses, and it attracts Natsume's attention. A simple blue yukata is tugged on as he turns toward the bed.

"Is something wrong?" The boy ties a sash around his waist, keeping the cloth closed, and turns to him fully, crawling back on the bed and holding out a hand. "It's all right, come on. Let's get you outside." Ah, so that's why Natsume got up - but his movements … stiff, sore, exhausted. _He should rest,_ Madara decides, and he swats at Natsume's hand.

He wants nothing more than to escape with Natsume, but he can't. Because as long as the snakes remain intertwined, as long as that mark is there, no one can steal him away without hurting him more.

For a powerful ayakashi to be this powerless, Madara can't stand it.

* * *

"Where did these scratches come from?" Matoba asks, and his thumb is gently brushing over the marks. Aggravating them further, but also almost loving in that tender moment. Then he drags his nail across until blood wells to the surface, simply because Takashi isn't speaking.

Takashi doesn't feel like talking, though, and Matoba is already in a foul mood. He sees no need to fan the flames. This opinion isn't shared by Matoba, who wants his caged bird to sing, but Takashi knows how this will go. If he stays quiet, Matoba will make him scream. If he talks, Matoba will want more than pain. His body may break, but his soul - he doesn't want to lose that. And yet, he feels it erode every time Matoba Seiji touches him, every time he loses himself in a desire he doesn't want.

Matoba grabs him by the chin and it's a rough, firm hold that makes sure he doesn't look anywhere but where the man wants him to look. "Did you get a visit from a cat, Takashi-kun? Truly, you are popular these days. Why don't you tell me what happened?" coaxes the man, faux sweetness dripping from his voice.

Staring blankly ahead, Takashi says nothing. The firm hold turns violent as nails dig into his skin, warning him. _Last chance,_ Matoba is telling him - but Takashi has nothing to confess. The cat is gone and it isn't coming back. He knows better than to hope it will.

"Lay down," instructs Matoba, and he lets go so Takashi can comply. The mattress is soft when his back hits it, but Matoba is close, too close, and there's a leg between his knees, sliding up - and he doesn't want this, never has, but Matoba isn't going to stop if he cries. The man takes his time kissing him, and the anger is translated into the harsh pressure against his lips. No, his mind pleads, but he doesn't react, he doesn't call out, he only wishes it didn't have to be like this.

Love isn't supposed to be cruel and painful. It's nothing like this. So he feels sick when, for the first time, Matoba says, "I love you." Like it means something.

It doesn't. Never will. He won't let it.

* * *

To date, Takashi has tried to run away forty-eight times. Within a day, he is always caught by Matoba's 'security', and they're far from human. He has been discouraged from trying to run again, his wings clipped, but he longs for the sky - to see the ocean, to feel the wind, to bask in the sun as he sits with Taki, hand in hand. He wants to be somewhere that isn't here, and he wants to take his friend with him. They can be safe together, maybe alone in a world with just the two of them. It's a dream, that's all it will ever be - and it's a hope, so he hates it. Hope leads to disappointment, and he's been disappointed far too much to trust in dreams.

"I have someone to introduce to you, Takashi-kun," Matoba says, and it's like silk - the kind that slides uncomfortably against his skin.

He hasn't spoken in two days, so he isn't going to break his record for that. He turns his head away, gazing out the window to the untouchable sky behind it, and that's what holds his attention. He has things he should be doing, menial tasks to complete, but Matoba has requested his time to introduce this 'someone'.

From his spot on the sill, he watches the barely there reflection of the door and it's a boy around his age that walks through it. He tenses up immediately, wondering if his body is about to be sold - _lies, all lies, Matoba lied to me_ - but the boy bows to him and Takashi feels a sense of relief to his very core. It isn't like that, he isn't going to be sold, so he finally faces their guest to bow his head in acknowledgement.

"From today onwards, Tanuma-kun is to be by your side at all times. Is that understood?"

"All right." It comes out weak and broken, but he's speaking again and Matoba couldn't be happier. Takashi is embarrassingly happy too - because now, he doesn't have to be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Kaname has had his fair share of strange clients, but none as strange as Matoba Seiji. The man is a well-known brothel owner, sly and manipulative, with control over unseen things. Things that haunt dreams and turn them into nightmares.

Instinctively, he doesn't like him. As far as small miracles go, he does have one thing to look forward aside from the payment. And that's getting to know Natsume Takashi, the one he has to protect. They're about the same age, and it's the first time Kaname is looking forward to a job this much. He doesn't usually get a chance to interact with boys his age; it's always a girl to take care of, or an old man to shadow, or money to guard, or things to slay. His line of work doesn't leave him time for friends.

"Tanuma-san, do you know how to tie a kimono sash?" He doesn't, but Natsume teaches him - and they have all the time in the world, starting now. He isn't sure why Matoba wants him to guard Natsume, but that's okay. Natsume is kind and welcoming, and being in his presence is like coming home.

The girls like Natsume, too. They listen to him and allow him to do his work with little compliant; they even sneak him kisses when no one else is looking. It's like watching a strange parody of a family.

Kaname doesn't ask many questions in the beginning, content to enjoy his time for as long as it lasts, but then he notices - the way Matoba stands too close to Natsume, the way the girls go quiet when Matoba walks into a room, the way Natsume's smile turns fake as soon as Matoba is there. He doesn't like it, about as much as he doesn't like Matoba.

A week into the job, Kaname works up the courage to ask, "Why are you here?"

It's obvious Natsume doesn't belong here. Not because he is a boy - there are plenty of boys who work here - but because Natsume deserves so much better. He deserves something that doesn't dye his fingertips scarlet, from continuously staining a girl's lips blood red. He deserves something that isn't dressing girls in beautiful kimonos while he wears the same thing, every day. He deserves to see the world outside, where life isn't something bought, but something lived.

"I have no choice," Natsume answers, and the last thing he expects is for his friend to lower his simple blue robe, exposing his shoulders and a small, tattoo-like mark on his back. There are faded whip marks, too, but it's the intertwined snakes that catch his gaze. It's something sinister, and it doesn't belong on Natsume. "I owe my life to Matoba-san, and this mark proves it. A reminder that I cannot escape a debt that cannot be paid." He tugs his robe back up and pulls it a little tighter around himself. "I have no choice," Natsume repeats. "I never did."

Kaname still doesn't understand everything, but he knows when to stop. He changes the subject, hoping to ease the pain he has caused his friend, "Can we go to the pond outside? I've only seen it from the windows."

"All right," Natsume says, and it's the only freedom Kaname can offer him.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know?" Madara demands angrily. "You are the master of curses! The queen of horror, the empress of all things wicked! You know more about these types of curse marks than anyone else I've ever known!"

"As flattering as all that is," his friend replies, "I can't do much more than this." She exhales a cloud of smoke, which curls into the shape of a plant that spirals upwards. Long leaves, thick stem, it is a plant that can be found solely in the world of youkai. "Find this, have your pet human eat it, and maybe - if he's lucky - he won't die."

"And it will free him?" growls Madara, because that is a gamble without merit otherwise.

She shrugs. "Who knows? Best of luck to you."

"He's not my _pet_, by the way," Madara states, making it clear, "he's related to Reiko. You remember her - don't you, Hinoe?"

The surprised look on Hinoe's half-hidden face speaks for itself.

"If he survives, you can meet him," goads Madara, "if not. Oh well. You're not missing out. The kid's an eyesore."

"Does … does he look like Reiko?" Collecting herself from her surprise, she slaps her forehead and grumbles, "What am I thinking! He's still a boy!"

"A very pretty boy," Madara sing-songs, "but an eyesore, all the same."

"I'm not interested," Hinoe says firmly. "Now, go away! I gave you the only chance he has, use it well." If there is a sneaking concern in her voice, Madara doesn't call her on it. Instead, he swats at the lingering cloud of smoke with a large, white paw. It dissipates and he grins, ready to go searching. "Be careful," she advises him, but it falls on deaf ears.

Being careful won't get him what he needs, nor what he wants. He has to go all-out and take it.

* * *

Kaname likes the night. The dark softens the harshness of a long day and he can relax. He especially likes the nights where he can be with Natsume. He likes how they can talk for hours about nothing in particular. He likes it because Natsume is talking, because there are times where he doesn't. He stops speaking and he won't eat, but those days pass and it's usually thanks to a courtesan girl that Natsume gets better. He's a little jealous since Natsume will rarely let him touch him on days like that, but the girl - Taki, he thinks her name is - can run her fingers through his hair, whisper soothing words, and Natsume will get this look in his eyes, as if he's remembering why he has to keep on living. They share a special bond, those two, and he knows he can't get between them; it's unthinkable.

Tonight is one of the kind he likes the most, as he sits next to Natsume on the windowsill. The stars aren't out, too many clouds in the sky, but there is enough light coming from the district that never sleeps. It's not pretty or magical, but it's okay because the night is a soothing balm, and it reminds him of Natsume's presence beside him.

Tentatively, he brushes his fingers against the back of Natsume's hand. He wants to hold it, but he isn't sure what to do about this sudden want. It would be awkward to ask and -

And Natsume understands. He flips his hand to press their palms together and laces their fingers as one. Kaname stares at their interlocked hands before looking away, a reddish hue blossoming on his face. He isn't sure why, but this - right now - is making his heart beat faster than it should. It's innocent and kind of nice, but the look on Natsume's face is sweet, too sweet, and he knows if he looks he will want to make things less innocent and it won't be kind of nice anymore, but horrible.

"Tanuma-san?" Natsume asks, worry in his voice. He places his other hand against Kaname's forehead, checking for a fever that doesn't exist, and the concentration splayed on Natsume's face is more attractive than the last. He's beginning to realize he has questions he needs to ask himself before he has any right to question Natsume.

"I'm fine," Kaname assures his friend. He raises their joined hands in explanation. "I just … I'm not used to this kind of thing."

"I'm sorry." Natsume tries to let go, but Kaname won't let him. Natsume tilts his head, smiling slightly. "Is this okay, then?"

"It's fine," Kaname assures him again, "I'm fine with this."

Natsume's whisper is almost too soft to hear when he says, "Me too," but Kaname can hear it, even over the sound of his heart beating in his ears. And he doesn't want this moment to end; he wants to freeze it right here and replay it, over and over and over again. Because it's in this moment he learns it's okay to want something he can't have.

"Takashi-kun." Matoba shatters everything, like a child who shouldn't be allowed to play with porcelain dolls, and Kaname feels his skin crawl at the mere sound of his voice. "It's time to say goodnight."

Natsume seems to realize their hands are still joined as one and hastily pulls away, standing to take his place beside Matoba. "Thank you for today. Good night, Tanuma-san." Natsume bows, and then Matoba takes him somewhere Kaname cannot follow. He is forbidden from Matoba's room, and he isn't in a rush to find out why.

* * *

"Please wait outside," Natsume tells him, and Kaname hesitates - because his job is to be with Natsume. Well, not exactly. But until he knows the truth, that's pretty much it. "Please," Natsume says, and there is insistence in his voice, and the sound of crying from the room.

He sighs and nods, and then the door slides shut. It is a thin wall that separates him from Natsume, but the distance feels greater. And slowly, he begins to notice how far Natsume, the real Natsume, really is from him. He isn't sure why he listens in to their conversation through that paper-thin wall, but he wants to learn what is hidden from him. He wants to try and understand them. He wants to help.

"It's over," the girl's voice is hoarse from crying, but it's steady now, calm. "I had my first customer last night."

"I know," Natsume speaks, and he speaks with gentleness, just as calm, "I know, Taki."

Kaname can imagine them embracing, a comfort they can afford on a slow day like today. A day where customers aren't impatient and waiting to be served. He wonders if it's wrong that heat pools into his stomach at the images his mind conjures. Scenes of Natsume kissing soft, red, petal-like lips. Scenes of a bare-chested Natsume rocking into her and soft gasps emitting from them both. It feels wrong and it feels right and he doesn't know what he wants anymore. Desire isn't something he knows as thoroughly as these two. And he can't stay calm either.

* * *

"Good night, Tanuma-san," Natsume says - and he always, always smiles. Fake and heartbreaking and Kaname can't stand it. There is nothing good about a night where Natsume can't be with him. So Kaname never says it back, and he fears he might be hurting Natsume more that way.

He decides to follow Natsume that night. He doesn't know what else to do.

The door to Matoba's room closes as he rounds the corner and he can hear the sound of a lock clicking into place. He knows for a fact there is no lock in that room, so he wonders if there is another world he isn't seeing. A world that ensnares them both and locks them in from the outside.

It isn't good to linger in the hallways at night, which can get crowded any hour of any day, so Kaname takes his chances with the room next door to Matoba's. It reeks of sake and smoke, but it's a smell that fills the whole brothel, and he doesn't mind it as much as he did before. More importantly, it's empty. He can close the door, press his ear against the wall - and wonder what exactly it is he thinks he's doing. This isn't going to get him anywhere. It isn't going to help anyone.

Natsume moans and Kaname feels that same heat from days ago. His cheeks go red and he awkwardly shifts, his legs falling open to ease the pressure. He shouldn't be here, he knows that, but Natsume is panting and making those little sounds and it's going straight to his groin. He can't move. His chest rises and falls, and that's it. He breathes faster, in time with the thud of his heart, and he can't do anything else. _Want, want, want _is filling him, but he doesn't know what to do with it.

He closes his eyes and thinks of Natsume. Not of his fake smiles or Matoba touching him. He thinks of what it would be like to have Natsume under him, pliant. Short brown hair fanning a white pillow. Untying the sash from Natsume's waist, slipping his hand beneath that simple blue yukata, brushing his thumb teasingly over a nipple. And then he would lean down, kiss him and -

His hand moves to his clothed groin and he jerks with the first touch. He wants so badly. He wants for Natsume to be here, for this to be Natsume's hand rubbing against him and making him feel good. He wants there to be no walls between them - and this conclusion makes him shudder as he comes.

He lays there, sticky and uncomfortable, and wonders what exactly it is he thinks he's doing.

* * *

Takashi wraps himself tighter in the blankets when there is a knock on Matoba's door. It can only be Tanuma with breakfast, but he's not hungry. He doesn't go check.

Tanuma will leave the food outside, someone will take it, and it won't go to waste.

To his surprise, it _isn't_ Tanuma - because Tanuma wouldn't barge into the one place he was forbidden entry, because Tanuma is cautious and practical, because Tanuma isn't a girl. "Taki?" he asks, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "What are you doing here?"

"Your cat's back!" Her eyes are sparkling and Takashi shrinks back. "Come on, get dressed! It's out by the pond."

"_Quiet,_" urges Takashi, "or do you want this to get back to Matoba-san?" Then he takes note that a very important something is missing. "Wait, where's Tanuma-san?"

"Everything gets back to Matoba-san," Taki dismisses, waving a hand. She slides the door shut for privacy and helps him get up, wincing at the raw sight he presents. "And I told lover boy to take a break. He seemed out of it this morning. You know, he's hardly a good bodyguard, falling down on the job like that." She goes to get a washcloth and Takashi lays facing down, waiting for her to get the worst of the treatment out of the way. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.

Matoba doesn't treat things he loves with any more respect than that.

The cold water stings when it makes contact with the cuts that need cleaning. Taki purposely leaves the more sensitive areas alone. She knows well that he can take care of that himself, and she knows from days long past that it embarrasses him to rely on her for this. Regardless, she goes about it clinically, and the salve she applies to the bruises is heaven-sent. The pain fades to a dull ache and it's enough. It would have to be enough because he can't afford any alternative.

"Give me a few minutes," he says quietly, and Taki leaves - but she doesn't go too far. She's always there to pick him up when he falls.

* * *

The cat really is there, sitting by the pond, tail swishing back and forth. Green eyes focus on Takashi as he approaches, and those eyes are full of intelligence and an eerie glow. It unsettles him, as well as intrigues him.

"See? I told you it was here!"

Takashi attempts a faint smile for his friend. "Yes, but what are we supposed to do with it? Pets aren't allowed."

Frowning, Taki says, "I didn't think that far ahead."

"You always get like that when you see something cute," sighs Takashi. Studying the cat, however, he can't see what's cute about it. It reminds him of a lucky-cat statue, with its large head and - beckoning paw? Was this cat for real? "Taki, pinch me. I think that cat just gestured for me to come to it."

Taki takes him seriously and pinches him with a big smile. "No, you're not seeing things, Natsume."

Takashi rubs his sore arm. "You didn't have to actually pinch me. That hurt."

"Stop flirting," the cat says impatiently, "and get over here, Natsume!"

Taki and Takashi gape, an imitation of the koi in the pond. "It speaks!" And while Taki is excited by the prospect, Natsume is equal parts worried and terrified. He backs away, taking Taki with him.

"Don't be a coward," insists the cat as it licks at its paw, "I thought you had more courage than that, kid."

"I'm not a coward." Takashi isn't sure why he's letting that get to him, but this white fluff-ball doesn't have the right to talk to him like that. Actually, it shouldn't be talking at all. "You're an ayakashi, aren't you?"

"Correct," the cat doesn't lie. And it's strange, because ayakashi are deceptive and prone to lying, but this one seems to have a whole set of different principles. Takashi doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing yet. "Now, that established, will you come here, brat?"

"My name's not _brat_," Takashi crosses his arms and doesn't move another foot. He notices Taki watching him curiously from the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't dare to look away from the not-cat in front of him.

"Fine, fine. Come here, Natsume."

"I decline." He turns and walks away - until something smacks him in the back of the head and he's forced to stop and regain his balance. "Ow! Did you just throw a stone at me, you pig-cat?"

"No," Taki raises her hand, "that was me." Takashi glares. "Shouldn't we hear him out?"

"You don't understand how dangerous ayakashi are," disagrees Takashi, but Taki puts her hands on her slim waist and her not-painted face is serious and determined. She looks completely different from the courtesan that fascinates with her fragile beauty and alluring laugh. This Taki is strong, a fighter - and she's someone that Takashi rarely wins against. "All right," he allows, reluctant, and faces the ayakashi cat head-on, "what is it you want?"

"You," the cat says, blunt as can be. Takashi nods - and then begins to walk away again. "Oi, don't misunderstand! Get back here, Natsume!"

"Please kidnap another boy to your liking," Takashi flatly decides, "I have things to do. So if you'll excuse me."

Once Natsume disappears into the brothel house, Taki makes a face and flops down onto the ground. The kimono will be dirty when she goes back inside, but she doesn't care. "You'll have to forgive, Natsume. He's … not a morning person," Taki explains, "and he doesn't like ayakashi."

"Hmph." The cat stretches in the grass and then slinks closer, sizing her up. "You don't seem like a powerful human, so why? Why are you so calm? If I return to my original form, I could eat you, child."

She kicks her sandals off and stands, heading towards the pond. "I guess … I don't see you as a threat." She dips her feet into the water and holds up her kimono. "And if I'm in danger -"

"Taki! What are you doing? I told you to stay away from …" Takashi trails off, flushing as he realizes the not-cat is still there - and very much amused by his quick return. "You did that on purpose," mumbles Takashi.

She steps out of the shallow water and closer to him. "My hero," she whispers in his ear.

"Don't do that again," Takashi's voice is harsh, no longer gentle, "I don't want anyone I care for near that pond." He grabs her hand, picks up her sandals, and pulls her forward. "Let's go. Matoba-san is back." He glances at the ayakashi before they leave and says, "Maybe I'll hear you out another time."

Mostly because Taki will throw more stones at him if he doesn't agree to that much. She's meticulous like that.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tanuma-kun, I have a question for you," Matoba says with his smooth, cultured voice. There is little doubt in Kaname's mind that he has to answer, whether he wants to or not. "Why do you think I run a pleasure house?" The man twirls the stem of a flower, freshly picked, and his gaze is on that lone flower as he speaks.

To Kaname, it sounds like a rhetorical question, but he isn't going to fall into that trap. He says, "For money?" Wealth, fame, power - a sly man can acquire all of it and still want more. Kaname uses it for an answer anyway, while wondering if Matoba is like that as well and desperately wants something he can't. It doesn't seem that way. The man has everything. He has money, he has popularity, and he has Natsume. Surely, there is nothing else to want when the base desires are fulfilled.

"You're not wrong," Matoba replies and sets his flower down on the table. There is a small, truthful smile on his lips, and its sincerity surprises Kaname who hadn't known the man capable of it. Then Natsume is pouring them tea, bringing their conversation to a halt, and taking his place beside Matoba. He folds his hands over his lap and keeps his head bowed. Kaname doesn't like this side of Natsume, the part that accepts everything - all the hurt, all the pain, all the depravity of one man - but it's how Natsume survives and he doesn't have the heart to criticize it.

Matoba catches him staring and the smile slips away. "But if I wanted money, and just money, there are many other ways to go about it." The man picks up his tea, but he doesn't bring it to his lips. Instead, he holds it out to Natsume and tells him, "Blow."

Natsume does as he's told, closing his eyes and blowing on the hot tea. Kaname averts his gaze, and it feels like his face is on fire. He's thinking too much of what could be, what should be, but there is nothing to assure him that it will happen. That Natsume will look at him with anything other than that guarded, friendly façade.

"Thank you," Matoba says, dismissing Natsume. He takes a sip of his tea, savors the taste, and makes a little noise that can be misconstrued as a laugh. "Please, enjoy yours as well, Tanuma-kun."

Kaname leaves it untouched, because he doesn't want to get burned. "I'd rather hear what it is you're after, running an establishment like this. Besides money, what else is there to gain?"

Matoba pretends to think about it as he takes another long sip of his tea. "It's like honey, you could say. When you want to catch a fly, don't you use honey?"

"Then what is it you intend to catch, Matoba-san?" wonders Kaname, and within seconds, his nails are digging into his hakama. Because Natsume is leaning against Matoba, whispering in his ear, and Kaname hears the word _anything_.

"Maybe I've already caught it," Matoba suggests, and his eyes are on Natsume, full of darkness and want. "You really are naïve, Tanuma-kun." Setting his tea aside, Matoba returns his attention to Kaname. "Do you know why I hired you?"

Natsume lifts his head when Kaname says, "No. I do not." There is curiosity in his friend's gaze, but he doesn't think Natsume will like the answer.

"Oh, that's a surprise. I thought for sure you would have worked it out by now." Matoba plays with Natsume's hair and he's smirking, because he knows what this is doing to his guest. He knows, but that doesn't mean Matoba is going to do anything about it. He doesn't share. "I hired you to protect what's mine."

Something in Kaname breaks and it hurts, but he doesn't know what needs fixing, let alone if it can be fixed. "What am I protecting him from?" Kaname manages to say without his voice cracking, and it's that small victory that gives him the audacity to ask, "And what will I get for a job well done, besides money?"

"Oh my," Matoba feigns shock, as if he hadn't thought of any of that, "I haven't told you anything, have I?" At this rate, Kaname is starting to doubt if he'll ever know, but Matoba defies his expectations and continues, "I chose you because I needed someone I could trust. I needed someone that could sense youkai - and the rumors say you're just the man for the job."

Matoba's tea is accidentally knocked over as Natsume stands and excuses himself. For a long time, there is silence. Kaname isn't sure what to say or do or if he should do anything at all. Half of him wants to go after Natsume and ask what's wrong, but the other half, the half that keeps him seated, wants to hear the rest of Matoba's explanation. An explanation he should have had from the start.

Lacing his fingers together, Matoba rests his chin on his hands and grins. "Hmm, this is interesting. I thought for sure you would have went after Takashi-kun. It's hard to leave him alone, especially when you just know he's crying." The tea drips onto the floor with a steady _tip, tap, tip_.

Kaname doesn't move from his spot. He isn't going to be tricked with false words and miss the important ones anymore. Instead, he asks, "Should we clean up before or after you finish what you have to say?"

"After," Matoba decides, and the man leans back, his hands falling to his sides and supporting him. "Do you understand now? There are things in this world that you can't see, no matter how hard you try, and that won't change. But even blind, you can fight."

"I will admit … there are times when I feel as if something that shouldn't be there is near me, but how can I fight something invisible? Is there really any meaning to that at all?"

Matoba tsks, disappointed. "I told you there is a way, so listen well and learn it. I will show you how to protect what I want protected."

"Why are you telling me this now? Why not before?"

It must have been the end of their conversation, because Matoba begins to clean the spilt tea from the floor and avoids answering. Then he straightens his empty tea cup, picks up his drenched flower, and says, "Perhaps I wanted to give you some incentive to protect what's mine. But never forget: what's mine will always be mine." Matoba presses the flower against his lips and blows. The heavy petals fall from their once-home and collapse, wrinkled and used, onto the table. "Be careful, Tanuma-kun, or you might fall into a trap too."

Kaname wonders if that's meant to be a challenge.


End file.
